


A Game of Pawns

by timetvrner



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Caretaker Slytherins, Chess, Conflicted Draco, Dark Academia, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Eye Contact, Friendly Non-Friendly Competition, Hand Kink, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kinks, Lost Hermione, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Recovery, References to Depression, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smoking, Smut, Trauma, depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:34:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetvrner/pseuds/timetvrner
Summary: “Chess is like a beautiful waltz, Hermione. If you practice well enough, you could be just as good a dancer.”Returning to 8th year, Hermione feels numb. Upon seeking herself out, she bonds with an unlikely group through the challenges of chess.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 23
Kudos: 26





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy :)

To Hermione, everything was different. Yes, the time still ticked on and she still buried herself in her books, but she saw what was left of everyone- survivors trying to shove the pieces into place. Now that the war was over and everyone was back at Hogwarts trying to restart their lives, she was still struggling to put her pieces back. She considered herself happy and her friends would still describe her as “classic Hermione”, but some things weren’t as easy to recover from. 

* * *

“‘Mione are you sure you don’t want to tag along? Mum is making that pie you said you liked a few years back,” Ron whined on.

“I’m sure Ronald,” she glanced between her best friends. “Tell Molly I’m sorry I can’t make it this Christmas, but I’ll see everyone soon enough.” Hermione beamed at Harry and Ron trying to reassure them that she would be just fine this holiday on her own. 

“Alright fine, but promise that if you need anything you will floo in or at least write to us,” Harry spoke with worry in his eyes, but Hermione knew that no matter how long it had been after the war, that would never change. Hermione nodded earnestly as she wrapped her arms around both of her boys’ torsos and they squeezed her back.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend Christmas with Harry and the Weasleys, it was just that she couldn’t bear to be surrounded by people in such an empty place. There had been so much loss that that family now carried and no matter how joyful of a show they put on, Hermione always felt a pang in her heart when stories of passed Order members were shared or there was an echo of George’s laugh. 

To fuel the fire, she still dealt with her own loss of family, what with her parents being across the globe without the faintest idea of her existence. Hermione knew it was better for her to stay at Hogwarts over the break to find time for herself and sort out her own grief before she should be filling the gaps in other peoples’ lives. Call her selfish, but maybe after all these years, that’s what was missing from her.

* * *

The first day of Christmas break was always so peaceful in contrast to the days previous. Waking up to the smell of pine and cinnamon, the crisp morning air sneaking into the warm four-poster bed, and the oddly comforting sounds of no students. Hermione, as she was aware, was the only Gryffindor of the 7th and 8th years to stay behind for the holidays. 

She rolled out of her bed and slipped on a cozy, knit jumper and some jeans- not bothered with the sight of her hair. Skipping down to the great hall for an early breakfast, Hermione planned out her day. It was a nice change to be able to fill her time with reading without the fear of interruptions due to usual Gryffindor antics. 

When she reached the entrance to the Great Hall, Hermione surveyed the empty tables. Not even the few staff members that stayed were down at breakfast yet. As she took calculated steps, debating in her head where to sit with so many options, she passed a fleck of stark, white hair at the neighboring table. Of course, how could she have forgotten about the Slytherins? 

For the first few weeks of the new school year, the handful of 8th year Slytherins that had returned kept to themselves- not that Hermione blamed them. So many of the pure-blood families were involved in the war and suffered their own losses as well. Many of the death eaters were sentenced to Azkaban, but their children were only given minor penalties or probation. Hermione carried the unpopular opinion that this was the morally correct decision of the Wizengamot. Many of the other students, especially those that had a helping hand in the war, still were disgusted with the returning ex-death eaters. While no one confronted them face to face, even a fool could see that the Slytherins were walking targets and knew it too. 

Besides a side glance towards the blonde boy, Hermione wasn’t inclined to ruin her morning just yet, so she righted herself in her seat at the long table to her left and pulled out her book. Head down in her reading and sipping her coffee, she realized she should have chosen her seat more carefully. Pouring into the top of her skull were the eyes of Draco Malfoy. Where she sat just happened to be at a slight angle from his direct line of sight, but they were facing each other nonetheless. 

She burned her eyes into her book until she felt his gaze relinquish. It was her turn now. Out of curiosity, she peaked up through her eyelashes. Stunned. Hermione Granger was stunned at what she now witnessed. Malfoy was playing Wizard’s Chess by himself? No… She watched the board carefully… It wasn’t Wizard’s Chess at all. When he picked up the white knight and captured his imaginary opponent's pawn, there was no flourish and destruction of the pieces. She waited in anticipation for what she considered to be a barbaric action for a child’s game, yet it never happened. 

She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath when she exhaled sharply. She pulled her eyes up to meet his hand resting on the queen’s head and then further to his face. She was greeted with a scowl and a pinch of his eyes. She heard Malfoy’s voice ring through her head- 

_“Keep that big bushy head down, Granger.”_

The next thing she knew, she snapped her book shut, got up, and left the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Aykam for helping me get this fic rolling and being my support system throughout <3


	2. II

Hermione couldn’t get the brief encounter with Malfoy out of her head. If you would even call it an encounter. Nothing had even happened. Just their classic death glares across a room to each other.

If anything, Hermione was just mad that she didn’t get a good enough look. She had always been curious about what happened to the Slytherins and death eaters after the war- rather what they turned into. She was curious about Malfoy being so close to Voldemort due to his father’s rank if anything had changed.

_I doubt it._

Hermione wasn't a fool. It was still Draco Malfoy and always will be. She shouldn’t get her hopes up, instead, she needed to put her curiosity to bed.

That night, despite scolding herself in the back of her head, she crept from the Gryffindor tower to the library to dig up books on Wizard’s Chess as well as the few copies on Muggle chess she could find in the Muggle Studies section. 

* * *

The following morning, Hermione followed her usual schedule: get up, get dressed, grab a book, and head down to breakfast. Except for this time as she skipped down to the Great Hall, the book tucked under her arm was _Chess Openings: Theory and Practice._

Hermione chose the same spot she sat in yesterday. She situated herself and opened her book before glancing up at the vacated table across from her. Malfoy was not there hovering over his chessboard. 

She huffed to herself and was reminded that she doesn’t care if he isn’t there. In fact, she was glad that he wouldn’t be there to bore into her skull again and distract her from her reading.

_Not distract- Malfoy doesn’t distract me._

Head in her book and her untamed curls falling around her, spilling onto the wooden table, Hermione was deep in thought. She was no beginner when it came to chess. 

Years spent sitting criss-cross on the floor of the Gryffindor common room with a book in her lab while Ron and Harry played Wizard’s Chess, Hermione glanced up every other move to check the status of the board. She observed just enough to pick up on certain sequences they used or different ways to capture the queen, but her eyes never lingered too long. She hated the way the pieces interacted and broke each other apart.

_“Ronald! Why would they do that!?” Hermione gestured to the board the very first time she witnessed her two friends play a match and Ron’s knight took Harry’s pawn._

_“Hermione, no need to be so tame. It’s Wizard’s Chess- this is what makes it magical,” Ron prodded back to her, rolling his eyes at the same time._

She hated it. Hated how Wizard’s Chess had the opportunity to make the game even more beautiful through magic and seemingly ruined it with brutish actions. Hermione grew up watching Muggle chess, after all. There was a beauty she found in it, how there were multiple combinations of games but only a certain number of chess pieces, each with their limitations. Not to mention the skill and intellectual ability one must possess to be able to win a game. Young Hermione’s mind would spin watching her grandpa and dad play a match together in the cozy living room of her childhood home. 

_“Chess is like a beautiful waltz, Hermione. If you practice well enough, you could be just as good a dancer,” Her grandpa told her as he held up the white queen piece to her. She grabbed it from his frail hand and watched it turn between her fingers in the dim room._

_The older man always spoke in low tones to her of how chess was a game for the most refined minds. It was meant to be played between people of respect and conviction._

She always felt like thinking of chess that way was her own little secret between her and her grandpa. Hermione would read up on Wizard’s Chess as well as Muggle chess throughout the years to learn new techniques; however, she would never indulge herself in playing Wizard’s Chess. She refused to soil all that her grandfather taught her. 

* * *

An hour had passed of sitting in the Great Hall when Hermione decided it was best to move on and take her books to the library with her. Her shoes clicked against the stone flooring of the quiet corridors. It felt odd to be in such a quiet place. She still looks at the walls and sees the damages that once were, now covered up. The cracks in the stone and broken glass that used to litter the floors. They are all still there in her mind and no amount of mending charms can fix that. 

Yet, her solemn walks through corridors that are temporarily empty of thudding footsteps and rings of laughter provide her with a sense of peace. Everyone had seemed to have restored their personalities by their return for 8th year, but Hermione still hadn’t caught up. 

She was grateful to see her friends' faces plastered with smiles and sharing old and new jokes. She would play along and humor them; provide a laugh here and there or throw a punch on Ron’s arm like old times. Even Harry was well along in recovery and could join in on the fun despite it being apparent that the boy who lived would rather have never lived in the first place if it meant avoiding so much loss. 

Hermione kept playing along, but under her mask, she carried the weight of the possibilities of what she could have studied harder and read more of to see a different outcome of the war. It was good that they won the war at all, but she couldn’t bear to think about whose life didn’t have to be sacrificed in the name of saving the Wizarding World. 

They were just kids. Besides ghosts of her friends’ pasts, she didn’t have anyone. Her parents were gone, her best friends had moved on without her. She felt left in the dust and didn’t know what her next move would be. 

Finally, her feet carried her to the entrance of the library. She walked in and already felt the comfort of being surrounded by worn-out parchment and leather bindings. The scent of ink swirled around her like a welcoming hug. Hermione wandered towards the back of the library and sat down at her favorite table situated near a section on Advanced Charms.

She lifted her chess books out of her bag and onto the table, planning to continue to brush up on chess openings and study matches. Her pages flipped open and she bowed her head letting her curls curtain around her small face.

From across the main aisle in a tucked-away section, there was a sharp inhale. 

_You’ve got to be joking._

Begrudgingly, Hermione lifted her head just enough to peak up through her hair and locate the sound.

Malfoy sat on a cushioned armchair with a reading lamp pointed over his shoulder. The book in his hand cast menacing shadows across his angular face. He looked at her, forcefully connecting their eyes. His cool irises dripped in resentment. 

Malfoy snapped his book shut causing Hermione to jump just enough for him to notice and provide a scowl. He stood, stretching his long legs in the shadows of the dark corner, fixed his hair with his free hand, and stalked out of the library. 

Hermione still looked towards the now empty alcove. She had to process what had happened. It’s not like she did anything offensive other than sit in her normal seat at her normal time in the library. She didn’t care that she was “intruding” on Malfoy and his special reading time. He would have to get over the idea of both of them in the same room for the next few weeks because she didn’t plan on giving up her safe space to him. 

What Hermione couldn’t get over was the bold font etched along the binding of the book Malfoy snapped close with his long, pale fingers. _Grandmaster Repertoire_. Hermione’s eyes widened. He was reading advanced chess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for still reading. The chapters won't always be so short.


	3. III

Tossing and turning, sweat collected against her lower back. Hermione couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts swirled together with no sense of direction or order. 

_Why would he be reading that book? If he was advanced enough in chess then what was the point? Where had he even learned Muggle chess? Isn’t that against his family's “teachings”?_

Hermione would have pictured Malfoy cowering and sniveling before an ordinary chessboard at a young age, afraid that touching a Muggle chess piece would burn his fingers or cover them in her filthy blood. 

She gave up fighting against her blundering thoughts and threw back her covers to get out of bed. She walked over to her small writing desk and picked up several knuts and a thin book on defensive spells she had leftover from the war. 

She laid the knuts on the floor and the book next to them as she kneeled. Grabbing her wand from her side table, Hermione gave a flourish and transfigured the items into a chessboard and 32 chess pieces. It wasn’t the best quality but it will do.

* * *

When Hermione awoke, she was curled up in a ball on the wooden floor with a blanket she ripped from her bed draped over her. Turning her head, she looked over to see her transfigured chessboard still there to provide some sense about last night. It was still mid-game; she must have fallen asleep practicing. 

The sun was shining through the window onto some of the captured pieces. Hermione lifted herself onto her feet, feeling her ankles crack and her spine extend. She looked in her full-length mirror, assessing the situation of her hair. 

She was greeted with her slender figure. Over the years and through the war her muscles became toned and her curves developed. She still saw herself as plain, but her bone structure and smooth figure gave her a sense of pride. She did her best to pat down her frizz in some areas but didn’t have the energy to perform a smoothing charm. Instead, she pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a grey cable-knit sweater, slipping on some trainers before heading down to the Great Hall. 

Halfway down the corridor, she realized she had forgotten to bring her book. Hermione shook her head in annoyance at her forgetfulness but didn’t want to walk all the way back to her dormitory. She kept trudging along to get some coffee into her system and she could just go fetch the books afterward. 

Entering the Great Hall, she kept her gaze forward and marched over to her spot on the wooden bench. She was so exhausted. She knew she shouldn’t have stayed up all night playing variation after variation, but she didn’t like the idea of Malfoy being advanced at Muggle chess. 

Her strained eyes drooped down over her cup as she lost sense of time stirring cream into her coffee; one time clockwise, two times counter-clockwise. 

Hermione sighed to herself. She felt a presence.

_Merlin, I don’t want to deal with this today. Please, just give me one day._

Her curiosity bested her and she looked up from her coffee to confirm that she wasn’t alone. Across the aisle, in the seat he had occupied before, sat Malfoy in front of his Muggle chess set. It really was an odd sight. 

Most players, especially new to the game, would hunch over the board not knowing where to place their hands, but Malfoy sat with dignified poise and had his elbows resting on the table with his right hand reaching outward, planning to pluck a pawn from its square. 

Right before he made his move, his cold, grey eyes connected with Hermione’s brown, honey irises. He didn’t allow either one of them to break their prolonged stare as he picked up his white pawn and placed it one space forward to meet the eyes of black’s pawn. The sound of wood meeting wood clicking through the empty hall made Hermione draw back.

Malfoy smirked to himself and returned his gaze to his board. Hermione took this time to search his face. He wasn’t contemplating the next move. She always found it obvious when someone was searching the board and thinking ten steps ahead, so she recognized the look on his face to be something else.

Suddenly, he was picking up the few out-of-place pieces and returned them to their starting positions. Hermione’s pulse quickened. There was a pause like the air between them stopped flowing. Draco Malfoy looked back up into Hermione’s eyes and as he bowed his head slightly his right hand fluidly waved over the board.

It was an invitation. 

His gaze dropped with his hand and he busied himself with his nails. He seemed to lack any care if she accepted the invitation or not. This decision was all on her. 

_What if this all was a play- Some sick joke? Either way I will end up humiliated. Accept and he can judge me up close or decline and he can claim me as a coward._

No. Hermione Granger would not let Draco Malfoy crawl under her skin like this. She swung her legs around the bench and marched around her table to go sit at his. She stood before her side of the table, directly in front of him, hands on her hips. He hardly acknowledged her except for a quick glance from under his lashes. 

_Great. Just how I planned for this day to go._

She gave up trying to intimidate him into speaking to her and took her seat in front of the black chess pieces. 

They both had straight backs and perfectly placed elbows. If anyone were to see them like this it would make an odd sight- such different people displaying themselves as equals. 

Hermione had her hands folded in front of her side of the board feeling the unevenness of the wooden texture. She waited for Malfoy to make his move or speak his words, after all, he had the white pieces and white always goes first.

He finally outstretched a long, bony hand and delicately grasped the knob of the pawn in front of his king, picking it up and placing it two spaces ahead. He brought his hand back towards him and laced his fingers under his chin. Hermione knew to take her turn. She took her queen’s knight and brought it forward in front of her pawns. She had played this kind of opening before and was familiar with the variety of moves it left open for her opponent. 

They took their turns calculating the scene set on the board and making their moves. They had never been this close to each other without the throwing of punches or obscenities. Hermione took this time to inspect her opponent. As she waited for Malfoy to think through the possible combinations and decide on the proper move to make, Hermione dragged her eyes up and down the man sitting in front of her. 

He was no longer the boy she threw dirty looks at down a corridor. He was a man equally affected by the war-torn life they were forced through. 

He dressed in a black button-down with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His forearms were muscular leading up to his biceps. Leaving a lasting print on his left forearm sat the scar of the dark mark. Hermione’s eyes quickly danced over it and then moved on. His shoulders completed his angular shape. They were broad and strong but didn’t overpower his lean body. The top button of his shirt was undone, just enough to expose the creamy pale skin of his chest. His face was just as angular as it once was, but he had grown into his jawline better. His long thin nose sloped down creating a line towards his lips. Hermione took into account his hallowed cheekbones and his dark circles. His eyebrows knitted together as a small feather of blonde hair came forward onto his forehead, out of place from his smoothed back hair. 

Malfoy was an interesting man to look at. He carried his weight from the war heavily on his shoulders but made a point to remain stoic looking. Put together to dismiss questions. Much like Hermione did. 

She leveled her eyes on his. They stared back at her harshly. He must’ve felt himself being scrutinized under her gaze. 

“Are you going to ever speak to me?” Hermione asked with an edge to her voice. She was tempted to say more but figured she should swallow it and ease into this. 

Malfoy only gave her a smirk and gestured to her pieces.

Her turn.

She sighed and looked at the board for a moment. Their pieces were dwindling. They had been playing for about an hour now. She picked up her rook and slid it four spaces left. 

Malfoy gave a simple smirk. She met his eyes again and they almost twinkled. He took his remaining bishop and captured her rook. 

_Dammit. How did I not see his bishop there?_

She gaped at him in horror. This should have just been a friendly game of chess, but they both knew it was more than that. They were proving themselves to each other. And Hermione, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, had to prove she was worth his time. 

She looked down at her exposed queen and king with a knight off to the side. That rook was her saving grace and he took it from her. She glanced towards his white pieces. His queen and king stood high and mighty, with a bishop and knight in the offense. 

Hermione didn’t want to succumb to Malfoy, but there was no other choice. This had gone on too long and there was nothing else to be done. 

In dreading silence, Hermione placed her delicate fingers atop her king’s head. She met Draco’s eyes. They were swimming with curiosity and maybe even surprise. As she pressed weight down onto the piece, tipping it onto its side, the look in his eyes faded and was replaced by the powerful, stormy grey. 

She had resigned. Their match was finished. 

Hermione opened her mouth to say something- anything, but just before the empty words began flowing out, Malfoy stood up with full force and began walking off. 

He exited the Great Hall leaving Hermione to sit in front of his abandoned chessboard and examine what could have been different. Not just in the chess game, but also what could have been different between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention this was going to be a **slow** slow burn?  
> From here on out I will do my best to have consistent updates.


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Welcome back, everyone! Things are starting to pick up. I hope you enjoy :)

It was alarming. Hermione was not one to allow people, let alone Malfoy, to get under her skin like this. She paced the foot of her bed while chewing on her nails. Her eyes were burning from her lack of sleep, but her mind was on fire.

_ That- that fucker! He thinks he can just beat me at one game of chess and call it at that. _

Hermione’s mind was propelled with rage and excitement. As sad as it was to admit, this was the most she’s felt something so real- so raw in ages. She had to get under his skin. She had to demand a rematch to show that she was good. She was not about to let a Pureblood go bragging that he bested a Muggleborn in Muggle chess.

She threw on her clothes and, without even looking in the mirror, stomped down the staircases. 

Low and behold, like any other morning in the Great Hall, Malfoy was perched at his seat playing through a game of chess. Hermione marched straight over to him and planted her feet with her arms crossed. 

Malfoy pretended not to notice, and he continued to dabble with his bishop. 

Hermione huffed, flinging her hair over her shoulder.

“Malfoy, look at me. I demand a rematch,” she glared down at him.

He barely batted an eye and continued to move the black queen diagonally.

“Malfoy!” Hermione planted the palms of her hands on the wooden table each on the side of the chessboard. She leaned forward, chest heaving slightly as she threw daggers into his eyes.

The stubborn boy in front of her carefully removed his hands from the white knight and folded them before him. His eyes dragged up slowly, raking over her body as he formed a snarl. 

“Granger, what do you think you’re doing? You are disrupting my breakfast,” the words glided across his tongue. He made eye contact with her, matching her steely glare. 

“I demand a rematch.”

“No.”

“You don’t get to just play me once and then leave it at that. I deserve to play you again!” She was trying her best to keep her cool but was growing more frustrated the longer she stood there in front of his cool facade.

“I get to do exactly that. I won, therefore I have no obligation to play you again,” He diverted his attention back to the pieces on the board.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “One more game. If I don’t win, then I’ll leave it be.”

She doesn’t know why she is trying to bargain with him. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but she felt this burning in the pit of her stomach. She had to prove herself.

Malfoy pursed his lips. He took his time rolling the idea around in his head then finally looked back up at her.

“Fine. One more. Sit.”

Relishing in her triumph, Hermione swung her legs into the seat and set her hands, ready to play.

  
  
  
  
  


The hours ticked by. The first hour, both of them were very confident in their moves, pulling out old and new strategies. By the second hour, the pieces on the board were thinning and they each had to remind themselves to straighten their backs. Once the third hour arrived, Malfoy was cracking his fingers and Hermione was bobbing her knee. 

Few pieces remain and it was becoming crystal clear that it was nearing the end. When it came to chess, no matter how skilled you are, there always came that moment where at least one of the players was backed into a corner. 

Hermione’s king stood tall and proud only a few paces from its original home. Her bishop was near the middle of the board, followed by a pawn crawling its way towards Malfoy. Malfoy’s kingdom was just as sparse; A knight riding on the outskirts of the board, his king timidly out of place, and his queen being what ties his moves together- protective and redeeming.

Each move was like the popping of guitar strings. So much tension built up, the opponent praying to a God they didn’t even worship just to grasp at any hope that their pieces would be spared. That moment when the felt bottom of a piece collided with rosewood grain was either a release like no other or pressure bursting at the seams.

Hermione’s calloused fingers plucked the pawn up and moved it forward, extending her torso, so that it rested right under Malfoy’s nose. She placed it just where his, now captured, bishop used to sit. 

She cleared her throat. Her pawn was up for a promotion. 

“My queen, please,” her small voice traveled between them. She nudged her head towards the pile of captured pieces beside the board. 

She wasn’t sure if he had heard her, so she began to lean forward to snatch her queen from the group of abandoned pieces. At the same time, Malfoy’s hand reached across his body with the same destination in mind. 

For a fraction of a moment, his cold fingertips collided with the backside of her supple hand. She retracted her hand out of instinct at the unfamiliar touch and threw it back in her lap, not daring to look up at him and acknowledge the incident. 

Without a glance, Malfoy acquired her dark-stained queen and swiftly replaced her pawn, letting it stand tall in place. 

There was a bubbling inside of Hermione’s stomach. She now had her queen back. The abilities of her pieces were matched with his. The fluttering in her stomach crawled up her throat and she had to hold back a grin. Given the right opening, Hermione could beat Malfoy.

His move- He pulled his knight in closer to the center in an effort to block a diagonal attack from her queen to his king. It wouldn’t be good enough. Her queen was in his territory, now. She pushed her queen to the left, trying to corner his king even more.

Monarch against Monarch.

“Check,” Hermione stated.

The truth of it was, they could waltz around the board all day. Shuffling their kings and queens and playing tag between knight and bishop. They could fill hours playing a game of cat and mouse, but they weren’t children anymore.

Malfoy’s pads rested upon the tip of his king. He directed his dark eyes to hers and held her gaze while he tipped the sovereign over without a sound. 

That bubbling in her stomach exploded. Every nerve in her body felt electrified like a wash of cold water flowed over each thread of herself. She had to fight the urge to jump out of her seat and smile like an idiot. The rush cascaded down her, head to toe- Everything felt alive.

Malfoy stared into her beaming eyes. They sparkled with intensity from her rush of accomplishment. 

“Again.” 

She refocused her eyes and felt that wave of victory collide with a brick wall. His low voice rumbled in her ears.

“Again?” She retorted.

“Yes, again.” He was already beginning to reassemble the pieces.

So, they played again. And again. And again.

What started as breakfast then flowed to lunch which meddled with midday snacks to ooze through dinner.

When they began earlier that morning, the warm sun poured through the tall windows and offered clarity on their sequences. Faces displayed clearly to each opponent as it was easy to read frown lines and furrowed brows. Now as the day waned on, the sun had completely retired. The only source of light was the dimly lit sconces placed around the hall. Muddled shadows cast over the board and the pieces began to appear as if they were reaching out to one another. 

Following Hermione’s triumph, they played a short-lived game where Malfoy had reclaimed his title. He didn’t bother to revel in it and only offered a rematch the same as last time.

Another match prolonged its stay. The whole afternoon was taken up by confiscating piece after piece until each of them only had their kings and a supplementary piece. After several long hours, Hermione finally cornered his king to where he was led with no choice but to resign. 

Their chess history now stood as 2-2.

Hermione was now wiggling her rook past his bishop, trying to get a better insight on his queen. Malfoy retorted and slid his queen forward as a threat.

Neither of their moves were reckless. Possibly bold at times, but never reckless. Everything was calculated and pristine just as their spines never wavered even as the night drew on. 

Hermione snuck glances at Malfoy every few moves. His pale skin appeared smooth and delicate under the flickering lights. She thought back to when she saw him in the library. The same dim lights casting menacing shadows over his structure. However, this time it wasn’t so menacing; comforting if anything. 

She couldn’t say what time it was or how long they had now spent together in that empty Great Hall. All she knew was that her bum was sore, her eyes stung, and she couldn’t wait to lie down in her cushioned bed.

Their pieces danced around each other. Black and white stained wood sliding over squares that painted countless pathways, yet only allowed for precise footwork. Patterns appeared then disappeared, opportunities won then lost. 

At last glance, Hermione threw her knight in front of Malfoy’s piled pieces that surrounded his king with a huff.

Nothing. 

Hermione raised her eyes to him. He wasn’t doing anything, just looking at her. 

She looked down back at the board and recalculated her move. 

_ Oh.  _

Her lips parted in awe as she realized what it meant. She had cornered him- Cornered him into an abyss of his own making. There was no way out for him. It was mate.

Hermione glanced back up to him. A small smirk danced upon the corner of his mouth. He knew she had no idea what she had done but was equally as impressed.

Hermione Granger had beaten Draco Malfoy; best 3 out of 5. 

He extended his strong hand out to her. After a moment's hesitation, she took the initiative and shook his hand.

He threw his long legs into the aisle and she watched him stride out of the Great Hall- once again leaving her there to mull over their matches. 

* * *

Hermione’s night didn’t last long after their final match. She headed up to her dormitory and crashed into her pillow. Her dreams were painted with scenes of personified chess pieces waltzing in a checkered ballroom.

Feeling a sense of pride leftover from last night and now rejuvenated, she traipsed down to the Great Hall, a book in hand. She unconsciously pulled herself in the direction of where they sat all day yesterday instead of going to sit at her usual station. 

Where Malfoy normally sat preying upon his chessboard was now empty. There was no chess set with his aristocratic posture feeding into the movement on the pieces.

Instead, lying in its place, was a lonely piece of parchment.

> _ Granger, _
> 
> _ Snape Pit. 8 O’clock.  _
> 
> _ -DM _

Malfoy’s instructions were neatly scrawled upon the cream parchment. There was not a stroke out of place. His words were just as poignant. They were clear and direct, with no room for interpretations or questions.

_ The snake pit? Well, this should be interesting. _

A ball of knots formed in the pit of her stomach. There was too much to process when it came to an invitation to the dungeons. She had never been to the Slytherin common room and never in a million years would have thought she ever would be. Too many questions imposed themselves on her thoughts.

Hermione folded the note and placed it in the back pocket of her jeans. Her appetite was lost and she turned to spend the day in the library. 

No amount of reading could prepare her for the night she was planning to endure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I will hopefully have chapter 5 up in another week :)


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